Pro-Lifers and Former Abortion Workers Must Be Patient with Each Other

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Heaven rejoices over every repentant sinner.  That is true for you and me, thank God!

But with humanity, here on earth, it takes a bit of time to catch up to heaven.  Doesn’t it always, though, and why are we so surprised to find this is the case with the pro-life movement?

I’m referring to the slowness and sometimes reluctance on the part pro-lifers to believe in and be grateful for the conversion of former abortion workers and post abortive parents.

If the comment boxes regarding this topic are any indication of mood then there is one glaring truth out there in the pro-life movement: pro-lifers and former abortion workers, and post abortive individuals must be patient with each other.

Trending in the media and blogosphere on account of the Gosnell trial and the emergence of investigations into the cruel, ugly face of the late-term abortion industry, are several editorials that highlight one of the toughest parts about this movement: it is made up of sinners.

Sinners who are working to end abortion, sinners who are post abortive, sinners who used to work in the abortion industry, sinners who are angry about the sin of abortion, sinners who come off as cold and others as judgmental.  Sinners, sinners, sinners, all of us who want desperately for this great sin of abortion to end and nought but the help of God’s grace, and yes other sinners, to help that come about.

As someone who has worked in the pro-life movement now for almost a decade, I believe wholeheartedly in God’s unconditional forgiveness for all sinners, regardless of how scarlet those sins may be, should one be genuinely sorry.

But this last month, some of the articles I read and photos I’ve viewed online, and testimony from abortion workers I’ve heard have absolutely disgusted me.  My stomach has been turned, my heart has been sickened and my faith been taken to a new level of trust in God’s mercy for myself, for others and for our country.

I believe repentance and healing is possible for everyone, but, let me tell you, I had to really, really pray this last month to maintain that belief.  Does that me a bad person? Or just a pro-lifer who needs everyone’s patience as I work towards a conversion within myself to becoming more fully compassionate toward others?

Some reading this might be tempted to label me as deeply and secretly judgmental toward those involved in abortion.  To a certain extent, they wouldn’t be wrong.  I have to pray EVERYDAY about not being a judgmental person in general – whether it’s over someone’s driving ability or childrearing or eating habits.

Most people, I find, also have to struggle with their general prejudices about many things.  We’re all human.

When it comes to holding prejudices regarding the abortion industry, even unconsciously, keep in mind that we’re talking about a business where sin compounds with sin compounds with more sin and it can genuinely be a shock to the system, even for the most gentle hearted, God loving individual.   Just as many former abortion workers talk about how it was Love that helped them to change their ways, that same Love from the Almighty is what pro-lifers need if they are going “into battle,” so to speak, to change hearts in the abortion industry.

That means they need to experience God’s Love in their own brokenness and sinfulness so they understand how someone can say, “I used to work helping to kill babies, but I have found forgiveness,” or “I killed my children, but I have had found healing and new life in Christ,” and believe such redemption is possible.

Two conversions must always take place for true healing to occur.  Those involved in the sin of abortion must change their beliefs and repent their involvement in the sin.  The pro-lifer must also convert interiorly and become a truly compassionate, herald of the Gospel if they are to maintain any credibility as Christians at all.

Neither type of conversion or process is easy, and we have got to admit that more often.  Pro- lifers have to understand it might take a lifetime someone to come to regret their role in abortion.  Those who have repented for their abortion-related sins need to be understanding when forgiveness and rejoicing over their conversion doesn’t come like an automatic finger snap to many people ‘on the outside.’

When we are willing to extend that olive branch of patience to one another, then perhaps then the rancor in the comment boxes over whether someone is truly sorry over their past sins, or if someone else is “real” pro-lifer or just an angry, condescending jerk, will cease.    

So let's pray for each other's conversions! Is there any one of us that doesn't need it?

Then maybe we can all catch up to heaven and do a little more of the celebrating over changed hearts, with the Father, who runs to embrace each of us no matter how far away we are.

Why I Don’t Engage in Mommy Wars

The closest I ever came to ever becoming publicly angry to the point of wanting to engage with another mom…excuse, me, the three times that happened all took place at public parks (go figure).

Incident 1: Mom-of-the-year asks nicely if I can remove my child from the play structure shaped like a fire truck… because her kid wanted to play on it.

Incident 2: My kids occasionally bring toys to the park. Once we brought a plastic toy cork gun.  Cue mom-of-the-year talking loudly to friends about the dangers of playing with toy weapons (to which her much more intelligent preschooler rebutted, “But mom, it’s just a toy!”).

Incident 3: My kids sometimes climb on things at parks.  Not anything dangerously high or located next to spikes, or shark infested waters or anything, but you know, things that invite climbing such as benches.

And sometimes, other kids want to imitate them.  Cue mom-of-the-year running exasperatedly toward her perfectly capable, safe distance from the ground toddler grunting, “Don’t look at those kids.”  She meant my kids.

The last incident did cause me to open my mouth and say to her sarcastically, “Well, that wasn’t condescending,” Perhaps my protruding baby bump did intimidate, for she sized me up for a second, picked up her child and walked away.  But something happened in that moment and it’s the reason I dislike and don’t ever engage in mommy wars: you can’t say a thing without coming off as condescending yourself.

Sure, her reaction was over the top, but notice how quick I was to think and say so.  Was that not a bit condescending of me? 

Don’t think that I didn’t feel a twinge of the, “How dare you judge my parenting in public,” pang, because I certainly did.  And then my next uncharitable thought, which happened in all three cases, because it was another commonality between the three, was this: “It’s because she only has one kid.”

Ouch.  While it’s true that all three moms-of-the-year only had one child, is it not rather judgmental on my part to chalk that up as the reason they all behaved like insecure dunces (which, again, is own my harsh opinion)?

The irony of mommy wars is just that: no mom wants to feel judged, and no critic is a harsher judge of motherhood and childrearing than a mom. 

The very second I feel like some phantom rosette adorns an invisible sash reading, “Infallible Mom,” across my chest, whether I have one child or ten children, is the moment that I have completely lost the battle, so to speak.

Think about it.  Who ultimately wins in the war of the mommas?  Nobody. We like to think the kids are the winners, and that the fruit of our bickering over things like organic vs. processed foods, tv vs. no tv, playing with toy weapons vs. hugging small animals is a society that will eventually raise truly balanced children.

But when does that ever happen, really? And do kids really win when one mom is busy pointing the finger at another mom’s choice of snack food?

This goes both ways I find.  Some moms revel in their kids’ healthy edamame option while other moms rebelliously pack the Cheetos as a sign that they just ain’t apart of that crowd.

Where do I think we Christian moms should fall on the spectrum of overbearing vs. bone-headed motherhood?  Exactly where we should fall in every other aspect of our lives:  try the best we can (even if it means Cheetos and toy guns sometimes) and err on the side of charity, in this case, towards other moms (i.e. don’t go around publicly and loudly condemning her kids’ actions and snack foods as though they’re a microcosm for the whole of her parenting).

In two out of the three park incidences I mentioned above, God’s grace helped me do just that, and to put aside my initial angry feelings. 

For the first, I did move my child off the play structure because that mom begged and assured me that they would only be one minute and were leaving anyway. Ten minutes later when they were still playing on it and it was obvious she had lied I then wanted to react to her (but God helped me with that too).

For incident number two, instead of stewing, I struck up a conversation with the mom who was bemoaning the presence of a toy gun at the park.   I asked her how her son’s school was going and we had a really nice conversation about my homeschooling. 

To boot, she even let me gift our toy gun to her son (the “Mom, it’s just a toy,” kid) because he was having so much fun with it, and plus my kids have a whole armory of toy guns in our house anyway.   Yeah, go ahead and judge away.

I think the true victors of the ‘mommy wars’ are the moms who don’t engage but step aside to focus on what really matters: on those kids whose upbringings we’re all fighting to prove we know more about, and who have more to gain by our respecting one another’s journeys in our vocations as mothers, instead of pretending like we are the only ones who have it all figured out all of the time.

My advice is this: don’t engage in mommy wars, and may you win laurels of peace by doing so.

My Kids: The Most Hectic and Purest Love I’ve Ever Known

As I write this, the girl and the boy are both pretending to nap (so am I – myself on the couch and they in their beds).

More than likely they are quietly destroying something, messing up the room or re-arranging some precious paperwork in my bedside cabinet.

I’m tired.  They are too, but they have more energy in their young, supple bodies than I do in my stout, pregnant frame.  Lately, the thought of having a new baby in only a couple of weeks has both excited and terrified me.  I’m not that mom who romances over the infant phase.  I can’t even remember it once it’s gone. It’s just one big, chi-chi, poopey, un-showered blur.

So why am I, to use the culture’s terminology, not “done” with children?  It seems I’d be a prime candidate to enlist in ranks parading to the tubal-ligation center for disease childbirth control.

It's because quite simply, and not so simply, at the end of every exhausting, stressful, water-retaining day, I’ve still never loved so well, nor so poorly, nor as purely as I have since I had kids.

I’m not perfect at it, by any means, but, it must be love for it compels me to do strange selfless acts, that otherwise would be entirely foreign to me.

For example, when my son, who is obsessed with poop right now, tells me earnestly that we shouldn’t go to the park because the sand is where “the kitties go poop,” I must, in all seriousness, affirm that he is correct about that, and assure him that we will be sure not to touch the poop when we are there because it has germs.  In that moment, he matures a little more knowing that he made such an intelligent statement.

Or like the times he goes “Big poop!” in his little toilet, the fruit of weeks of potty training on mine and my husband’s part, and he calls out that he ‘needs’ me to come and clap my hands together like a daft penguin celebrating him becoming a big boy.

And we’ll do this everyday until he finally figures out that bowel movements are just one of those things that everyone eventually manages to do without applause.

But, darn it! I was there and I clapped for him! And I was happy for him for no other reason than I loved him.

I can only credit him with giving me the opportunity to love in that way.   My daughter too, when she did the same thing.  Where else in the world would I have been able to love like that?    

I know they may be silly, minor examples of love, but, really I had almost zero experience of doing anything similar before I had the kids.  Nor have I loved anyone or anything for such a prolonged amount time (I looked at my daughter the other day and thought, “Wait, she’s only five?”).   

This love that I, and many parents, have for our children is the most hectic and purest love many have ever known.  So, no.  I am not 'done' being purified by having kids, if you want to put it that way.  Are you kidding? There's still so much I have to learn about what love actually is and what it actually means to love.

At the end of every tough day, I feel that I can only thank God for them.  And soon enough, when I am 'done' I hope to thank my kids for putting up with me as their mother.

Where I am sitting, I can feel the baby in my abdomen kicking so hard that I am breathless.  A little foot drags across the underside of my belly and the muscles harden in anticipation of a future contraction.

Yet another baby is coming into our world.  They will be yet another opportunity to love purely, selflessly and with a lot of grace. 

I figure that, with God, I too am like this baby.   How will I get to heaven?  Just like my kids will: kicking and screaming, pooping and clapping.  A strange package that He sees, for all it’s hecticness and flaws, for all it costs and simply says, “It’s because I love you.”

For the Record: I am not an Unreasonable, Hate-filled, Fearful Bigot

Of late, the vitriolic rancor flung at Christians due to their beliefs about the nature of marriage and the family has been particularly vicious.

I can only conclude thus: that charity is not the native language of my generation.  Nor the previous generation, perhaps.

As saddening and sometimes maddening as this is, I maintain my hope that, despite the incivility haloing the topic of gay ‘marriage,’ most people, once you get them alone (and away from social networking sites), are able have an unheated, rational conversation about the topic.

I say this is a hope because I am still waiting for that person who would like to sit and charitably exchange ideas.

I especially want to engage with someone who may be proliferating the uncharitable language that is now so familiar to us.  For example, slogans like “FCK H8,” and “StopH8,” which are supposed characterize how Christians in some way really harbor a profound hatred for homosexuals.

I happen to be a Christian, and, believe it or not, I don’t hate anybody.  I'm just stuck wondering why you are accusing me of doing so – and don’t you realize that you are actually attacking my personal character when you do? 

What if I turned around and said of all same sex marriage supporters: “Stop H8ing God and FCK H8ing heterosexuals?”

Well that would be absurd.  I might not agree with their position but obviously supporters of same sex 'marriage,' many of them anyway, love the Lord, are heterosexual themselves, and believe they are supporting a just cause.  What about that makes them ‘haters?’  Nothing. But by the same token, how does my position make me a ‘hater,’ if I too love all people and believe my own position to be reasonable?

Without really thinking it through, one half of society has decided that smearing, labeling, and shame mongering the other half into accepting a stance that many simply do not agree with is the best tactic.  To me and to many such methods only serve to weaken their arguments because, after all, why would you distract away from your core beliefs by attacking others, unless what you believe is unsound in some way?

That and what happens is that before I can even lay down my side of the argument, I am already stuck defending my character, which gets old, frankly.  For, if I don't hate gays, as I indicated already, then I must surely be fearful of gays or social change or both.

Right. What would I be afraid of, now?  Most gays I know are good, caring people.  I like them though I dislike their sin and I pray for them, but not in a condescending way.  I’m a Christian, remember?  Praying for all sinners is kind of what I’m mandated do.  This has nothing to do with someone’s sexual orientation, just our universal fallen human nature and, because, buddy, I’m also on that list. 

Regarding fear of social change: really?  In this day and age where things change by the minute? Plus I’m the person who goes on yearly Walks for Life advocating for the rights of the unborn.  Clearly, my family and I are “out” (no pun intended) and willing to engage in social discourse.  I am still not seeing my own fear regarding change.

Lastly, the charge of bigotry.  You know, this goes both ways.  If I am bigoted due to my narrow, Christian, single-minded views, then how is that different to someone being bigoted towards me due to their own narrow, opposing view?  Am I to accuse half the nation of being bigoted against Christianity?  Isn’t that a bit extreme?

Of course it is! So when I hear such a charge flung against half the nation by the other half, it makes me wonder: if the one side doing the flinging truly believes their cause to be just, then why go to extremes (unless their cause isn’t just after all)?

For the record, therefore, and for whatever it’s worth, I am not a hate-filled, fearful, bigoted individual due to my belief in what the core structure and purpose of marriage is.  I am a rational person, who has followed a logical train of thought, and arrived at what I believe is a completely reasonable conclusion.

Also for the record, those who disagree with me are also not hate-filled, fearful, bigoted individuals either (most of them).  They too are rational people, who have followed what they believe to be a logical train of thought and arrived at their own conclusions.

No haters, homophobes or bigots need be present in this debate.  So could you do me a favor and quit accusing me of being all three at once?

Oh, and I almost forgot about the ‘wants to impose a religious state’ upon everyone accusation.  Yes, I am a Christian, but it might surprise you to hear me say that we don’t need to insert to religion into this debate at all.

There is new and current data from countries that have already legalized same sex marriage on the effects of changing the family structure, which I think we, as a nation, need to pay very close attention to before we can even continue this conversation.

How’s that for being secular?  Surely you’re not going to accuse Norway and Sweden as being instruments for the Catholic Church’s inquisition?  The statistics are coming in and looking very grim for children raised in same sex households.

In sum, your un-fearful, non-hate filled, non-bigoted Catholic mom, who prefers to wait for objective data to indicate the best direction for her country is signing off now, still in the hopes that someone out there wants to engage in way that is productive and charitable in every sense of the word.

Sacramental Party Faux Pas and Crashers

One thing I’ve always loved about being Catholic is how much the Church likes loves to par-tay!

I mean, you have a baby and BAM! You, my friend are now obliged to throw the holy-party-three-pack: Baptism, Holy Communion, and the Confirmation, wherein you collect as many religious trinkets as they may need to ward off temptation for the next fifty years! (and if you are Hispanic like myself, it’s required that you to select at least 20 godparents per kid before they’re fully initiated into the Church).

However, at times, one does hesitate, despite their lifetime of prescriptive Catholic partying, to revel publicly in the joys of the Holy Spirit.

Why?

I’ll speak for myself: it is the sudden moment, in the midst of all my planning for the glorious occasion, where I face the realization that I am inviting people to my party.

You know, them.  Members of the clan of humanity, whom, statistically speaking are more likely to camp out overnight to catch the premier of Hangover III than courteously rsvp to my child’s rebirth in the Holy Spirit (unless texting me fifteen minutes before the ceremony starts counts as thoughtful, in which case, yeah, they’ll do that).

Anyone else ever have that realization and almost not send the invitations?

So I made a list.  It’s a small list of the some of the biggest sacramental party faux pas and crashers that have almost caused me to avoid a beautiful, supposed-to-be-Christ centered occasion.

I say, almost, because, of course my better, Catholic partying sense has come to my rescue so-far.  We ain’t a ‘quiet ceremony with two witnesses’ kind of Church.  We are a feast day everyday, every sinner in the house and the kitchen sink is invited Church.  Nothing like making a big deal out of a big deal – and we’re kind of good at that. Just re-watch some of the footage from Pope Francis’ installation for proof!

And then these guys show up:

The ‘we aren’t going to the Church, just the reception afterwards’ crowd.

So my child is entering into God’s life of grace? That’s ankle level.  What?! There are margaritas afterwards?! Dude! We will meet you at the restaurant. (um, face palm?).

Baptisms: for some, all it says is: will I miss the big game if I attend?

Never mind the lack of religiosity, how about the lack of class?  Someone went out of their way you think of you, invite you, and yes, pay for your meal and drinks and you show up basically to be fed.  Seems that someone’s life of grace has been pretty neglected lately, wouldn’t you say?  Not mention your treadmill, most likely.

 The “Can I invite my single friend, to meet some of the other singles that will be there?” person

Seriously?  My infant, the fruit of my womb, whom I just squeezed out of my battered, still-went-to-mass-on-Sunday-anyway frame a little while ago, who will become an adopted child of God the Almighty Creator of the Universe, will be center stage and you want to play match-maker on the sidelines?

It also shows: your baby? Faith?  God?  Meh. Not so much.  My moping single friend hitting-it-off with someone: them’s the games I want to watch. 

No.  Just no.

The “We aren’t going to tell you that we’re bringing strangers to your sacramental celebration because, (insert innane reason here).”

I still just don’t get this one.

This may be a religious party, pal, but the food and beverages still don’t multiply themselves, you know.  And is it really so hard just to even text me, even fifteen minutes before the event, that you’re bringing other people?

That and the uninvited guest that comes always sits silently in a corner with a ‘deer in headlights look’ once they realize how out of place they are.  But by all means, invite your own friends to your own party, because, you know, that’s normal.

The “I’m not Catholic so I’m going say really stupid things all night to make myself feel like I’m the cool one” person

I don’t even know why I still invite this person. Maybe charity?  Maybe to meet other singles there that might straighten them out? Doh! I committed my own faux pas.

Bonus: Whoever sits next to them gets to hear all about their estranged relationships, dysfunctional family, medical history, career woes and their latest superficial acquisition – usually a watercraft or kitchen appliance. Because that’s what everyone who celebrates a first Holy Communion or baptism lives to hear about…what your lame life away from the Church consists of.

Is it too much to ask to just not make a sacramental celebration weird?  For this person, yes it is.

Have any crashers or faux pas you want to share? Leave a comment! And by all means, be merciful to these folks, they may need the party more than you do.

I Met A “Woman Priest” The Other Day. On the Sidewalk. This is How it Went.

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You may or may not be familiar with the Woman Priest movement or the Woman’s Ordination Conference.   I still don’t understand the difference between the two.  In any case, the latter can be credited with such fine contributions to salvation history as this gem (and yes, they are completely serious in this video):

…no doctrinal problems there.

I’ve done my fair share of laughing at them from afar (which just goes to show what a great Catholic I am…not) as well as regarding them with the same degree of seriousness as I would a Mickey Mouse shaped nebula somewhere.

Then I met one.  At the sidewalk.  Here’s how that went.

First, to her credit, she was participating in 40 Days for Life.  How rare or cool is that?  I thought all “women priests” despised Paul the VI’s Humanae Vitae and were all for “choice” (at least, if they were anything like the Leadership Conference for Women Religious’s higher ups whom I’ve often opined to be on the same level.)

At first, unsure why she was wearing a Roman collar, I innocently asked, “Oh, are you a minister somewhere?” expecting a response of the yes, Episcopalian, variety.

“I am a Catholic priest.” She declared.  My response: shock, silence.

When she saw I wasn’t responding, she softened and added, “It’s a long story.”  I have no doubt it is...and I could probably tell most of it to her.

For, not long ago, as a confounded Catholic, growing up in the Bay Area, I was indoctrinated with a pseudo-catechism from those who insisted that contraception, abortion, homosexuality and especially women’s ordination was completely compatible with Church teaching.

Don’t think these priests/nuns/theologians didn’t have volumes of secondary sources to confuse me and every other lay person who innocently came wanting to know more about their Faith (and who only received a weird, up-in-smoke, 1970s version).  Missing in my mis-education, of course, were the primary sources, like say, um, the Catechism and scripture. I am guessing the woman priest I met had a similar education.

Then, I’m sure some spiritual director somewhere confirmed that she did have a vocation to the all-male priesthood (that’s usually all it takes).  Then, she networked with likeminded, identically spiritually counseled women championing the “reforms of Vatican II,” and the rest is history.

Here’s the cool thing though, and I can’t come back to this enough: she was praying for an end to abortion.  She was very kind, though clearly confounded, as I had been.  And she had an obvious zeal for justice and love for Our Lord. 

Speaking with her helped me be less condescending to those like her whose hearts are clearly in the right place but whose actions are the fruits of both being misled and, perhaps, influenced by their own personal disdain for Church teaching.

Our conversation together, mostly about the evil of abortion, helped me see that, beneath her Roman collar, was a good woman with a strong, passionate desire to change the world.

Now, you might be wondering, as I still am, why, if she truly wanted to change the world for the better, end abortion, and have a ministry distributing hospital supplies in Peru (which she apparently already has), why not just do the same while living in accordance with the Church?

Is there any reason she couldn’t pray and minister to others as a lay woman and not be equally, if not more effective in reaching more hearts and converting all to the Gospel of Christ?

The answer is: yes, of course she could.  But she’s chosen not to.  She’s chosen the path of dissent, and, as a result, ironically, will probably never completely fulfill her own baptismal priestly vocation, to which we are all called.

But isn’t that just like the devil?  He’s very convincing when it comes to persuading some good, intelligent, hardworking woman somewhere that she is called to the Church’s all male priesthood.  He’s created the perfect distraction as she seeks illicit ‘ordination’ all the while not realizing that she’s missed out on the immeasurable potential she had should she have walked the path of fidelity to the Church instead.

Women priests such as the one I met don’t deserve judgment or ridicule, especially from imperfect Catholic women such as myself who purport to be all adhering to our Faith.  They need our love, and especially our witness to the fullness of a woman’s true priestly vocation, which is not present for us in the same way it is for men in the way of ordination to public ministry.

Ours is a different, but just as important “priesthood.” Among other things, for some it means bringing new life into the world and nurturing it in the Faith.  Yeah. How about them, apples? 

But it is also to call other women to deeper fidelity to the Church.  I pray the prolife movement continue to be one such catalyst for uniting all those who still live in dissent to many of the Church’s teachings, and that they, like the "woman priest" I met, come home their Faith fully in a beautiful, wholly assenting and final way.

Before I was a Pro-lifer, I was a Judgmental Pro-Choicer

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I’m looking forward to upcoming the Lenten 40 days for life campaign.  Just saying so is really a miracle.  I was not always pro-life, you see, and it was not an easy, nor a pretty road that lead to eventually seeing the world with God’s merciful eyes. However it was worth every aching step and in many ways it has saved my life

My pro-choice stance actually stemmed from a disdain for women. My liberal upbringing was full of examples where women bullied other women.   Indeed, it was dog-eat-dog amongst gals who seemed to be in a perpetual competition with each other, all of them also professed liberals.  I hated it and I disliked other women for it, but I knew no other way.  I fooled myself that pro-lifers were the ones judging others, but really, it was me all along.

It might sound strange to say, but being pro-choice allowed me to adjudicate women from afar.  It meant that I never had to go out of my way to really sympathize with a woman’s situation or get to know her personally. If a she had an abortion, I could just decide that she was just making a benign choice that didn’t affect me.

Plus, to my mind, if I told myself she was too dumb to realize that sex equals a possible child, then I could congratulate myself on being her intellectual superior.

More sinisterly, my liberal beliefs lead me to believe that, practically speaking, the world was a better place because it didn’t have to contend with paying for her ‘mistake.’

Here’s the cold, cruel reality underlying the false compassion that typifies liberals, and especially pro-choicers: despite all their talk of women’s rights, deep down, they’re grateful that they don’t have to go outside their narcissistic comfort zone and actually deal with real problems faced by real people everyday.  They don’t have to bother with whether a woman has low-self esteem, was bullied into her “choice” or whether it’s a true injustice when innocent human life is ended.  Nope, pragmatically speaking, it’s just one less kid to spend our tax money on. 

I should know, I was such a liberal.

Then after I became pro life in college, my judgementalism evolved to condemning not only the act, but the people involved in the sin of abortion.

I didn’t do this consciously.  It’s completely natural to recoil in horror once one comes to understand what abortion actually is.  Nor is it difficult to make the emotional leap from applying the same reaction you have to an abhorrent situation to the people involved in it. 

Now, I was never one who felt like people deserved to be stoned to death, or anything, but I was someone who would cast a condescending eye upon others.

I had succumbed to the oldest tricks of the Devil, that of mentally drawing a line between “me” and “them” and how I would never do something as bad as what “they” did and may God have mercy on them (because I sure wasn’t.)

Really, I just didn’t understand God’s mercy and my unforgiving attitude was rooted, ironically enough, in exactly what I most shared in common with post abortive parents and abortion industry workers: my own brokenness and need to discover God’s inexhaustible love and forgiveness.

Long story short, it wasn’t until I sought healing for my own wounds and my own wretched sinfulness that I was able to feel love for my fellow man and, finally and most especially, women.

At long last, I could embrace them as my sisters in Christ and get to work trying to  spare them the pain of abortion as well as find them healing for those wounds they believed were beyond God’s healing power.

I could do this because the prolife movement forced me to personally encounter that:

Nothing is beyond His mercy, not even my hideous judgementalism. 

Becoming prolife and really practicing my faith made me get out and love people even more than I believed I could.  It made me seek my own healing for my anger and residue issues from childhood.  It saved my life, and, as result, other lives since.

How could I not bring this powerful message to the women I’ve prayed for at the sidewalk for years now?  It was the entire message of the gospel, and without the pro-life movement, I might have completely missed it for myself and others. 

This Lent, please remember to pray for judgmental people like me.   Don’t give up on us.  We can and do change.  We are broken inside on fundamental levels that we may not be even aware of.  Abortion is a horrible sin that requires love and mercy to heal, as does judgementalism.  Pray that more of us seek it in the prolife movement.  And may God protect us as we once again head to the sidewalk this Lent.